


Exaggeration Is The Sincerest Form of Flattery

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: All Emma Swan wanted to do was eat her bear claw and sip her hot cocoa in peace.





	Exaggeration Is The Sincerest Form of Flattery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bleebug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/gifts).



> So the lovely bleebug said I could write a drabble to go along with her adorable caricature drawing and I had to write something extremely silly. AU nonsense because that’s my jam.

 All Emma Swan wanted to do was eat her bear claw and sip her hot cocoa in peace. She thought if she aimed for five minutes after the diner opened, she may have a shot. Thirty seconds after she sat down in the farthest booth from the door, she knew she was very much mistaken.

“So Ems, I was telling Mary Margaret about how you’re just the thing the carnival needs to drum up donations…” Ruby Lucas, her closest friend and general menace plunked down in the seat opposite her.

“I dun know wha’ you’re talking abou,” Emma mumbled through a mouthful of claw. 

“You can run the caricature booth!” Ruby beamed, snagging a fingerful of whipped cream under Emma’s glare. Emma swallowed her breakfast, heaving a sigh.

“Okay first off, no fucking way. But also, I’m not an artist!”

“But you’re so talented!” Mary Margaret Blanchard, actual ray of sunshine and official pain in Emma’s ass chimed in, fluttering down like an excitable bird to sit beside Ruby. She loved Mary Margaret like the sister she never had, which Emma supposed also explained the overall annoyance.

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about,” Emma grunted, disappointed that her bear claw was now nothing more than crumbs.

“I may have shown Mary Margaret some of your sketches,” Ruby admitted, plastering a wolfish grin on her face.

“Seriously? You’ve seen some stakeout scribbles and decided I must be the next Da Vinci?” Emma frequently got bored waiting for perps to show up so she could earn a living as a bailbondswowan; lazily sketching out silly little scenes was one of her favourite ways to kill time. Leave it to Ruby to pilfer her notebook for nefarious purposes.  

Mary Margaret opened and closed her mouth quickly, measuring the amount of smile she needed to pour into her next sentence. “Well they may be scribbles to you but they’re a damn sight better than any of us can do!”

“I bet you have students whose skills would absolutely crush me.”

“We’re not asking you to bust out the oil paint, Ems – these are cartoon portraits of people eating corn dogs and losing at ring toss,” Ruby pointed out, slipping from her seat to sneak behind the counter and grab another bear claw. Emma didn’t bother to contain her eyeroll as Ruby slid it across the table to her on a fresh plate.

“And resorting to bribery, I see.”

“I prefer to think of it as incentive,” Mary Margaret grinned. Clearly the two thought the battle was half won as soon as she reluctantly took a bite of the second claw.

“Remind me why caricatures are even a thing, again?” Emma sighed.

“They’re cute and people always want to see themselves through someone else’s eyes,” Ruby shrugged.

“Have we mentioned in the last five minutes that it’s for charity and you’d be helping to keep the school running?” Mary Margaret put on what Emma assumed was her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“No but kudos for that subtle segue right into guilt tripping,” Emma smirked. It was sweet, really, that her friends thought she had any talent other than extreme sarcasm and advanced alcohol tolerance.

“Come on, Ems, it’s one afternoon. Besides, you love people-watching, it’s literally what you do for a living.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Emma acquiesced, “but I don’t want to be stuck in some stuffy booth all day. I’ll sit on a stool or chair or something near the food carts.”

Mary Margaret squealed and moved to give Emma a crushing hug. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already sort of do.”

 

***

October was definitely a kick-ass month as far as Emma was concerned – leaves changing colour, pumpkins _everywhere_ , and the chill in the air meant cozying up to her favourite red leather jacket on the regular.

Storybrooke’s fall carnival wasn’t exactly the largest celebration, but the welcoming time of year meant pretty much the entire town was happy to don their boots and scarves and crunch through the leaf-strewn paths in search of hot apple cider.

Mary Margaret had dropped off an easel and various arts supplies at Emma’s apartment the day she’d agreed to help, promising there would be chairs and unlimited hot cocoa waiting for her once she arrived.  

Emma had to admit the carnival did look lovely as she arrived to set up. Garlands of leaves and string lights hung across the various booths and games, clusters of pumpkins and squash sprawled around large wooden baskets. It was the perfect backdrop to help awaken her artistic muse.  

Her first portrait was decidedly bizarre. A little blonde girl with a stuffed rabbit had dragged her somewhat disheveled father towards the “Caricatures While You Wait!” sign, disdain simmering in his features. Emma drew them both into the tea party scene from Alice in Wonderland; the girl’s toy as the white rabbit and the dad as the Mad Hatter. She had to admit even though her choice of background was odd, she’d done a good job capturing their respective likenesses. The little girl had beamed as showed her father the drawing and Emma’s heart swelled when man gave her a grateful smile, tucking a handful of bills into the donation box.  

Mary Margaret had awkwardly walked over to catch a glimpse of her work while she was sketching a tall blond man she’d seen around town as a brave knight. Emma stifled her laughter as the two talked about their favourite kind of apple in some stilted sort of flirtation. A text buzzed into her phone a minute after Mary Margaret found her way back to her candle booth – _His chin isn’t that big!_

Not all of her customers had been so pleased with their results – the mayor complained Emma had drawn her as a glamourous queen on a throne as “too evil”, whatever that meant. The lady decked out in green who kept bickering with her soft-spoken boyfriend didn’t end up appreciating Emma’s take on the Wicked Witch of the West, pointy hat and all, with her boyfriend as an ever-faithful flying monkey.

All things considered though, she was having fun.

“Just a minute, I want to down the rest of this cocoa,” Emma mumbled into her travel mug as she saw the shadow of another customer fall across her easel.

“Whenever you’re ready, love,” a smooth British voice answered. Emma tried not to whip her head around too quickly, pretending to rearrange her supplies as she scoped its owner out.  A dark-haired, scruffy man with sparkling blue eyes grinned back as he caught her unsubtle attempt. _Holy shit,_ Emma thought, momentarily flustered. Could she even do that level of handsome justice in a quick cartoon sketch?

“Hi,” Emma said, regretting the word as soon as it left her mouth. She really needed to work on her flirting skills.

“Hi yourself,” the man answered, rose tinging his cheeks. “So how exactly does this work, love? Should I just trust in your artistic vision?”

“Uh, that’s usually what people do.” Emma fidgeted with the markers at her disposal. What the hell was she going to draw? A brief notion of drawing him open-shirt with long flowing hair a la cheesy romance novel made a smile curl across her face.

“Is it alright if I put in a request?” The man cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Sure, go for it,” Emma agreed.

“Can you make something interesting out of this?“ he held a prosthetic hand up in an elaborate wave, “I fancy a hook or some other attachment.”

“Bold choice, I like it.” Emma grinned. A hook meant she could definitely turn him into a pirate, though she was aghast at the thought of covering up his beautiful face with an eye patch. Still, she could work with it.

The man seemed to be studying her face as much as she was his, mapping features to commit them to the page. She did end up using an open-shirt look after all, adorning his hairy chest with a skull and crossbones necklace. Emma sketched a raised eyebrow and an elfin ear and a broad grin, making sure to capture the crinkle around the corners of his eyes. When she was finished she was almost hesitant to let it go – it was surely her favourite portrait of the day. She watched his eyes as he evaluated her work, smile growing impossibly wider the longer he looked at it.

“I daresay you’ve made look far better than any pirate I’ve ever seen, love.” He pulled out his wallet to choose a few bills and slide them into the donation box, eyes still poring over the details of her work.  

“Well wax moustaches and perms aren’t really my thing, so…”

“There is something missing though, I’m afraid.”

Emma frowned, “Did you need a parrot or something?”

“Your signature, love.”

She scoffed, taking the paper from him to give a quick scribble of her name in the bottom left corner.

“Emma Swan,” he nodded approvingly.

“And should I call you Captain Hook?” Emma quipped.

“Killian Jones is fine,” he rolled the artwork up as Emma fastened a rubber band around it. 

Yes you _are_ , she thought. God, even his name was great; she could almost feel her tongue saying it over and over.

“I feel I should thank you properly for this masterpiece, Swan-“ Killian mused, “will you let me take you out for a drink once you’re finished here?”

“Do you typically travel around to small towns to woo caricature artists? Seems a bit of a niche market,” Emma dead-panned. She wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea of a date, but it’s not like she knew anything about him other than he was British and too handsome for his own good.

“Can’t say I have a caricature artist in every port, love, and I’d wager none of them are quite as lovely as you.”

It was Emma’s turn to raise her eyebrows as she mulled his proposition over. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out Ruby gesturing at her, hand signals increasing in rudeness by the second. Mary Margaret smiled at Emma, giving Ruby a scolding smack on the arm.  

“Granny’s Diner, 7:00. But I’d prefer a grilled cheese to a drink, and you’ll have to deal with my friends staring you down the whole night.”

“That’s a cross I’m willing to bear, Swan.”


End file.
